


Trackers

by shardsofglass (rayoflight)



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Deaf Character, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecurity, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayoflight/pseuds/shardsofglass
Summary: This drabble happened because of Daryl and Connie. "Donnie" I believe is the portmanteau.  I can't believe they got me.  I still think he should have gotten the bat instead of Glenn, but dammit these two are cute.





	Trackers

Daryl lived for missions and tasks.  Doing his part for his loved ones didn't exactly make him happy so much as it gave him a sense of accomplishment and usefulness in this new world.  And now that Carol had moved on to serving and being served by her King... Well, he sank deeper into himself.  Into the woods, which had given him shelter from all the messiness of the world, even before the Walkers.  There, he could fully immerse himself in things that were uncomplicated, unlike attachments. The tracks, the smells, the way nature was just a constant cycle... Was like a cloak of comfort.  
  
He'd come up knowing how to live that life because he had no choice.  When you're dirt poor, knowing how to hunt and track was a matter of survival.  Now that shit was settled, he knew his own way meant he wasn't about to.  
  
I mean, sure a few seemed interested over the years.  They found his ability to wield a crossbow, what he considered his "white trash" style appealing and his determined introversion almost a challenge.  But... He always found a reason not to.  Namely how shallow and predictable it was.  Just _games_.  And for what, a roll in the bushes?  Someone to care too much about and then lose??  
  
Naw, not him. Didn't need it. He had Dog.  That was more than enough.  
  
For a blink he'd considered Michonne, but he knew Rick had been in love with her almost from the moment she'd turned up. And there was Beth, who was far too young, too pure and sweet a thing to still somehow exist in this world.  And sure enough...  
  
And so, he kept his focus on the missions and tasks.  Kept his heart closed and safe.  He wasn't even sure he could still open himself to feel that anymore.  And it wasn't just the change from the Walkers that had brought this on.   
  
The last encounter he'd had with a woman, Merle had arranged.  The jaded prostitute had been terrible at faking it... Half-hearted monotone coaxing and eventual release out of obligation. What he'd seen of Merle's many flings didn't make it seem appealing either. Plus, if a woman who'd been _paid_ couldn't muster the enthusiasm for him... And so, he'd been celibate from that point on.   
  
When he felt physically frustrated in that way, which was rare, he took care of it himself.  
  
He'd settled into the idea of being that loner until he died, hopefully while still being of use to his friends.

 

* * *

 

...And then Connie showed up.  
  
She was part of a new group who had been surviving on their own for much longer than even his old core group.  ...What he considered his family.   
  
The idea of a group like that of mostly women with one who was handicapped surviving like that hadn't surprised him. He'd grown out of the kind of limited prejudice his older brother had tried his best to impart upon him. In fact, he knew it was women who had been the toughest and most cunning in his own core group.  ...Carol and Michonne were prime examples.  
  
Still, when the slight-framed, curly-headed, deaf woman tapped him hard on the shoulder and insisted on going with him to track Henry and Lydia to that dangerous Walker cult, he unconsciously prepared himself for having to keep an extra eye on her, having to protect her, and shored himself up for the possibility of this newbie being lost.  
  
But she had made his typical distance impossible. The constant touching to get his attention, her steady insistent gaze, forcing him to _really_ look at her when he was talking (he'd felt like such a dumbass for forgetting that at first). The smirks she'd give him when he'd screw up things he'd done a thousand times the right way, when she wasn't looking.  
  
He was astonished to find himself being the one having to make an effort to keep up.  She was a quick tracker; very agile and light-footed. He watched how she navigated her surroundings, fascinated. Her peripheral vision was almost super-human. She'd pick up the smallest indications of movement or another presence, well before he could.  
  
And he'd remembered having interest in a slingshot when he was younger, but Merle had dismissed it as "pussy weapon". Connie's "pussy weapon" didn't have ammo that needed retrieving or long hours and skill making and maintaining.  He once caught the sheen of ball-bearing, but depending on the rot of the target, he noted that she interchanged them with plain old rocks, which were everywhere.  
  
Against his will, he was impressed and he found himself thinking she was pretty damn cool...and also just plain _pretty_. 

She'd spotted the building and given a smart assessment, right along the same lines he was thinking in for trapping Beta, the Walkers and that cult...  He found himself helplessly taking her in at moments when he was certain he wouldn't be caught, while she scratched at that damn pad.  He stared at the individual freckles on her brown skin, the bow of her mouth, the little earrings dangling from her lobes. He couldn't tell how old she was, but she was definitely a woman and not a girl. He wondered what she was before this.  ...A teacher maybe.  All of these musings were of a kind he'd long since thought gone from him.   She was definitely too good for him. She'd have no real interest in a redneck like him, but there was no harm in looking.   
  
It had been awhile and she was...  _different_ , in a good way.

 

* * *

   
  
Connie had a deaf partner before the Walkers, comfortable, but not in love, and she'd watched helplessly as he got devoured by a horde of them.   
  
She was thankful that her sister had survived with her, but it was lonely not having anyone within the culture anymore. She had not met one other deaf person since the Walkers.  So, she too existed in her own world.  But she hadn't closed herself off like Daryl had. She couldn't. Being deaf, meant communication was necessary for her survival, even with her skills. And she was a direct person, anyway.  
  
She had been a Girl Scout leader, in her life before the Walkers.  She had been inspired to pursue it by the founder having been a deaf woman, herself.  Having taught so many young girls, deaf and hearing, she was quite skilled in the outdoors.  But having put it into practice for years, around dangerous Walkers and humans alike meant she was that much more self-reliant, even without her sister.  
  
She'd been semi-attached to another in the group for a short time, before he was killed.  After that, she kept her focus on survival and helping when she could. The world had turned and people were desperate and afraid. Her group had come across more than few who were like that, but she couldn't let herself _become_ that. She was grateful to have come across these communities because Magda was almost to that point, herself.  
  
He first impression of Daryl was the barest one... Exposed arms which were visibly strong and coated in dirt. Long hair covering his face, partially shrouding his features. He mumbled and spoke in short bursts, so she gathered very few of his words. Hearing people, like this, weren't particularly big about people. He was, in his way, hiding. Maybe he didn't want people slowing him down, since he seemed pretty comfortable out there alone, even with the Walkers... but she knew she wouldn't.  
  
She saw how he was, how much he cared even when he was annoyed by the fact of it. His will to act for others and how capable he was at it that. But Lydia and Henry were on _her_ too.  She wasn't going to let him go it alone.  
  
He wasn't overly-precious with her, which she appreciated, but he was pretty clueless about dealing with deafness, even for a typical hearing person. She finally had to physically turn his head in her direction so she could see. His whole thing... The hair, the jacket, crossbow, even the dog felt like elements of armor surrounding him, in a way.  Somewhere beyond all of that was who this Daryl person really was.   
  
She did find his antics with Dog, and even the name quite amusing.  She'd caught him staring at her a few times, when he thought she wasn't looking, but she could tell he wasn't the type who knew much about what he was doing, in that respect.  She couldn't help but laugh at his boyish attempt to impress her with Dog's broken bolt retrieval skills, but she had to admit it was quite endearing.    
  
_She_ had been the one to spot the Walker cult-members guarding the perimeter, after they had decided to take their skins and lead a group of Roamers into the camp.  _She_ was the one who decided on the best direction to take once they had managed to get Henry and Lydia away from those people.  _She_ was the one who had spotted the building and decided on a course of action for trapping the Walkers, and the ones who wear their skin.   
  
But even after all of this, he kept trying for distance. ...For the safety in it.  
  
And though she understood, she wasn't about to let him.  She couldn't.


End file.
